


Distance From Fate

by ie_heretic



Series: The Red Planet [3]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Alien Culture, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bounty Hunters, Canon Relationships, Drama, F/M, Frieza being racist, Gohan is a precious child, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Mercenaries, Off-screen Relationship(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Plans Going Very Wrong, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Relationship Issues, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unresolved Tension, Violence, it's not hyper explicit or frequent but it'll be there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8456743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ie_heretic/pseuds/ie_heretic
Summary: The decision of one man alters history and changes the fate of his race. The river of time is split and runs another course, and a future is born. Years later, an irascible prince becomes involved in the rivalry of his life after losing a battle to an inferior warrior. However, the prince's refusal to accept defeat forces him to rely on a small group of Earthlings so that he may return to claim his birthright – return to Planet Vegeta. But what begins as an uneasy and temporary alliance changes when the situation becomes complicated. The prince's own obsession with regaining his pride, the beguiling Earth scientist, and menacing outside forces threaten to push him an impossible distance from his fate... or so he thinks.Prequel to A Drop of Royal Blood. ---Currently on hiatus until more of Prince of Slaves is complete.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First things first: you do not have to have read/intend to read the rest of the books in this series to understand Distance From Fate. It's technically a prequel, but can be digested as a stand-alone AU if you want. 
> 
> However, for those of you who are familiar with the series or may want to have a look at it eventually: this book is meant to be read AFTER A Drop of Royal Blood, though seeing as right now ADARB is finished and this one is not it isn't a big deal. Just know that some plot devices in book one will be spoiled for you if you go ahead with DFF.
> 
> Anyways, I wrote this partially to clear up questions I'm sure some readers have about the unique circumstances in ADARB, but also because writing about aliens and space adventure is fun. Oh, and there's gonna be some VegeBul too. 
> 
> The first chapter is partially verbatim of the TV special 'Bardock - The Father of Goku,' with some slight tweaks before it diverges from the canon sequence of events.

The overturned ground gave off a distinct earthy scent, but tossed with it into the wind was the smell of blood. To Bardock and his companions, it was a familiar aroma.

Bardock was the leader of his squadron, but he had no qualms with lazing about in front of them after their successful devastation of Kanassa in just a few nights. They'd wiped out any opposing forces in record time, and the rest was well-deserved. Being in ape form, as thrilling as it was, became exhausting afterwards. On top of that, the Kanassans were smarter and tougher than they'd looked.

That's why the job had been taken by Saiyans, after all.

Bardock stared up at the dull blue sky. Any lingering clouds of smoke nearby had cleared enough that the view wasn't obstructed, which he couldn't say that he minded. Any sky, red or not, was good enough for him.

“Hey, Bard.”

He looked over at the person who'd spoken, the only one who'd use that nickname.

“Do you remember what day your son was born?” Tora continued after catching his leader's attention. Bardock hadn't really been listening to the conversation prior to the question at all.

“Nah. But that was a long time ago,” he replied casually, readjusting his position so that he was looking back at the sky, his hands resting clasped behind his head like a pillow.

“No it wasn't,” Fasha interjected, smiling. “It was yesterday. Oughtn't you go visit the little guy? We have a bit of time before our next assignment.”

Had he not been so exhausted, Bardock might have smirked a little. Trust his long-time friends to recall more about Bardock's life than he did. However, as close as everyone in the squadron was, they maintained a level of respect when still on the battlefield. Even Tora, the sole member of the team allowed a little more freedom in that aspect, would drop the question whatever the answer (or lack of one) was.

“Visit him? Heh, that'd be nice,” Bardock answered dryly. “But there's no point. He's just going to be sent away.” Though he didn't know exactly when – even if the infant didn't wind up scheduled to be shipped off until it was past its toddler years, it was only logical for him to avoid the extra complexity that bonding with the baby would make.

“Hmph. Bardock, you're too much,” Fasha finished.

Bardock just shrugged. Third-class as he and the mother were, it was just the way life was. Or course, he'd encountered Raditz a few times over the years – he'd miraculously gotten assigned with the king's oldest little brat now – but it hadn't meant much at that point. He'd become just like any other Saiyan. It would be the same with the newborn (if it survived, that was).

Even if raising children was a privilege reserved for elites, he would make the most of what he did have, instead of dwelling on what he couldn't. Even if he couldn't see Gine very often, a deeper relationship like theirs was a rarity in itself, so Bardock never complained.

He rolled up from his reclining position, lying on the solid rock having done nothing to help soothe his tired muscles. His squadron had moved on to some other topic and they chattered languidly amongst themselves.

“What was Frieza thinking, wanting this planet?” asked Shugesh. Fasha stayed quiet and Borgos was busying himself chewing on dried meat, so Bardock opted to reply.

“Dunno. I think this planet was supposed to have special energy, or something,” he said.

“Yeah, right. I heard that too. Apparently, you're supposed to get psychic powers or whatever – the ability to read minds or see the future,” Tora mocked.

“Frieza, that prick. Of course he'd want the power to read minds,” Shugesh said.

Bardock was about to reply when a loud crash sounded from behind him. Battle senses at the ready, he and his crew whipped their attention around to investigate the noise.

“If only you could read minds,” an unfamiliar voice lamented, “so you could've heard the thoughts of my people as you slaughtered them!”

There, standing before the Saiyans, was a surviving Kanassan. It looked a little worse for wear, but Bardock didn't have time to analyze anything else as the creature began charging at him.

Bardock leapt to his feet, ready to meet his opponent head-on, but suddenly the Kanassan make a surprise flip, darting over Bardock's head so he was behind him.

Too late to dodge, Bardock was struck viciously at the base of his neck and a flood of numbness went through him, and he fell to the ground a moment after.

His ears ringing, he fought to get back to his feet, but his body wouldn't obey him. He could hear his comrades coming to his rescue, but by the time Bardock got up to a kneeling position – still seeing double – Tora had blasted the Kanassan warrior in the chest.

However, instead of acting wounded, the creature began glowing blue, wreathed in an azure, flame-like energy.

“You will all die!” it said. Its eyes were little more than glowing orbs now, but Bardock could've sworn the thing was looking right at him.

“We'll see about that,” the Saiyan retorted, finally getting to his feet. He raised a fist to strike, but the thing's voice interrupted.

“Wait!” it said.

Bardock halted his movement.

“You came here seeking psychic powers...” it began. “And so I have given it to you... Bardock.”

_So they really can read minds,_ Bardock thought, and the being responded to the thought like it'd been spoken words.

“You now have this ability too, Saiyan.”

“Me? What is this...” Bardock muttered as the Kanassan continued.

“Frieza, though he seeks it, will never gain this ability. But you, I have given it to you. It was a gift, Bardock, so that you could see...”

“... See what?” Bardock demanded.

“The horror that looms over you, just as we had to!” the creature cackled. The awful sound continued until Bardock could take no more.

“Shut up!” he shouted, hurling a burning sphere of ki at it.

The attack struck the Kanassan, and this time, the alien reacted as it should – it dissolved into flecks of ash, its remains decorating the air for a moment before fluttering to the ground.

There were several seconds of quiet as the tension left the air.

“Yikes. You never know what's hiding under a rock these days. What a freak,” Shugesh commented, stepping forward to Bardock's side.

However, Bardock almost didn't notice. Again, he felt vertigo swimming through his mind and body, and his friend Tora's words were a muffled blur as Bardock's legs gave out and the ground came up to meet him, his vision going dark.

 

\- :: -

 

The young Prince Vegeta let out a huff of satisfaction at the wasted Saibamen before him, gloating over how simple it was to defeat the bulbous animals.

Every time it was easier and easier, no matter what hordes of them he faced. They were nothing but pests, even if they were almost twice the boy's size their attempts at putting so much as a scratch on him were pathetic.

Vegeta didn't even have to dust himself off before he barked an impatient command into the air.

“I'm done. Hurry up and open the door!” he demanded, his voice holding authority despite the high, childish pitch.

He was heading for the exit before it had even begun to open, the attendant at the controls was apologizing profusely for his tardiness.

As soon as Vegeta left the training room he caught sight of his caretaker (for lack of a better word), who'd been awaiting him outside. The hulking Saiyan man was hard to miss from any distance.

“As always, Prince, your skills are unparalleled,” Nappa complimented.

The boy's round features etch themselves into a frown. On any other child of his age, the pouty scowl would've been endearing.

“Quit your ass-kissing, Nappa,” Vegeta snapped, continuing his march towards the next exit. Nappa followed the prince out as they moved into the hall.

A short walk later, the two found themselves on the moving floor belt, which the large station was outfitted with to prevent extra walking, which there was already enough of to get around.

The Saiyan prince, who didn't even come up as tall as Nappa's leg, was tapping his own in impatience or frustration, a habit picked up from the adults he was constantly around.

“This place is boring,” Vegeta said. “Enough of these drills. I want a real combat assignment.”

Nappa understood the prince well enough to know that the boy was musing to himself, and not asking for the bigger Saiyan's opinion.

“Hmph... Frieza. One day soon, we won't have to take orders from him ever again. You watch,” the prince spoke again, loudly enough for Nappa to hear.

“You think so?” the man replied.

The little boy gave his customary smirk – a mannerism that had always been his own as long as Nappa had known him. “I know so.”

“Heh, really? That'd be great,” Nappa said, humouring the prince.

As powerful as the boy was and would continue to grow – and his temper growing with it – he was still a child, as much as he tried not to be. But the evidence of his true age still showed through sometimes, and Nappa let that small part of the prince remain as long as it would.

 

\- :: -

 

“Lord Frieza,” Zarbon said, “Planet Kanassa was overtaken, as of last night.”

“Oh?” Frieza prompted, the end of his tail flicking in interest though his expression and tone remain neutral.

He sat in his hover pod, relaxed but for the wheels turning in his mind as Zarbon spoke.

“Yes, sire. Every Kanassan was eliminated and the cities destroyed. It's all yours.”

“Kanassa?” Dodoria blurted. “That job's been in the pool for months! I thought we'd have to take care of that one ourselves.”

“No, a group of Saiyans took it,” Zarbon replied.

“Saiyans, huh?” Frieza muttered, his lips barely forming the words. His lieutenants took no notice and kept their own conversation going.

“Their elite teams are becoming as strong as our own,” Dodoria's rough voice commented.

“Actually, that group in particular were low-level soldiers,” Zarbon corrected.

“Pfft. No low-levels could handle Kanassa. These guys are different. The Saiyans are quickly becoming our best fighters, am I right?”

“Yes, Dodoria. Without a doubt, they're much stronger now. With the full moon on their side, even a small group is hard to beat.”

“Heh. What, you scared of them, Zarbon?”

“No, certainly not. I'm just saying we should keep an eye on them, that's all. Like this 'Bardock' – the leader of the Saiyan group that led the Kanassan assault... What if he teamed up with young Vegeta and a few other good fighters? How would you like to take on _that_ at a full moon, Dodoria?”

Frieza's chuckle broke into the conversation.

“I don't know who would knowingly welcome that kind of scenario,” the commander said.

Zarbon, nonplussed at his leader's offhand comment, gave a plain reply. “Yes, sire.”

Just then, the dynamic in the room was broken as the door behind them slid open, allowing a young Saiyan boy with a flame-like head of hair to enter the room.

“Prince Vegeta,” Zarbon said, his surprise becoming irritation as he blocked the prince's path. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Frieza didn't send for you, kid. You know nobody sees Lord Frieza unless he calls them first,” Dodoria followed up, also moving to bar the child's way. Under any other circumstances, the intruder would be facing more than the mere scolding Vegeta was being subjected to.

“Look – I'm bored,” the young prince began, clearly enough for Frieza to hear even though Vegeta couldn't see him over the back of the pod. “I want a real assignment.”

“Hmph. Who do you think you are? I ought to teach you some manners, _prince,_ ” Zarbon threatened, staring the boy down.

“Give him an assignment, Zarbon,” Frieza's voice interrupted, causing both the green haired man and his pink companion to pause. “Immediately.”

Vegeta's lips parted in surprise at how quickly his request had been met, but he regained his composure as he studied Zarbon's startled reaction.

“Lord Frieza!” the braided alien said, aghast at the acceptance of the boy's rude behaviour.

“The boy meant no harm, Zarbon,” Frieza purred in a way that made the room's other occupants distinctly uncomfortable. “He simply hasn't learned how to control his passion. Give him the hardest assignment that you have.”

“And Vegeta... Do come back alive,” Frieza finished, his attention focused upon the young prince even though neither of them had moved places.

“I will, sire. Thank you very much,” Vegeta conveyed, placing a hand over his armour-clad chest and giving a rather mature bow for his age. He was pleased it'd been so simple to convince Frieza, and figured that the formal gratitude was the right thing to do. Everyone bowed to Frieza, little boy or not.

Frieza gave a low chuckle. “You don't have to thank me, Vegeta. You certainly earn your keep around here. You might want to learn to mind your manners a little better next time, though.”

Though the chastisement was a lot gentler than Vegeta was used to – from the leader of the PTO himself, no less – the prince had spoken personally to Frieza only a few times before, and could make no conclusions about it.

“Sire,” Vegeta acknowledged. Frieza laughed again softly – at what, only he himself knew.

 

\- :: -

 

The medical facility was quiet, thanks to the decrease in traffic and the temporary cessation of the day-old infant's screaming.

The baby, having exhausted himself crying thus far lay drowsily, his mop of wild black hair sticking out in all directions as he lay naked in the natal pod. However, the technology was specially conditioned to suit his needs, so he was comfortably warm, his soft tail coiled around his ankle. Despite this, his fits were on and off, the attendants long since having given up on figuring out why.

The child in the next pod was restless. He was silent, but shifted uneasily in place, expression disquieted. He'd been unable to sleep, thanks to the other baby's crying, and his own earlier tears had had no success in getting the aggravating sound to stop. Even in the short-lived stillness, he had no peace, his ears still ringing.

When the crying resumed, the second infant's ki – at an abnormal level for a newborn – fluctuated with his souring mood, his tail flicking apprehensively.

Elsewhere in the same facility, the darkness of Bardock's mind was invaded by the sound of the first baby's cries.

Half conscious as he was, in a healing pod of his own, the noise pierced his awareness and somehow, it was familiar.

It was his son.

There was a vision in Bardock's mind, one strong image pulsing like a warning beacon. It had been persistent, and only seemed to grow more clear as the baby cried louder.

_A planet in flames. Planet... Planet Vegeta?_

_The screams of its inhabitants as their bodies turned to ash as the world cracked and burned, exploding in a hideous flash of light._

_Frieza. Frieza, laughing._

Somehow, Bardock knew, the baby could see this too. He didn't know how, or why, but in his barely cognisant state, it was one of the few things he understood to be true.

And then, there was a voice.

Perhaps it was the Kanassan's, but perhaps it was not. Bardock was aware of little but his son's tears and the words that echoed all around them.

_You are powerless to stop the universe that has been set in motion, Saiyan, but you may be able to direct its course. There are two rivers that diverge from this place._

_You have a choice to make._

_No matter what you do, there will be sacrifice. Life, or freedom. If you let things go their natural course, a great darkness will be cast upon your people. Vengeance will be claimed, but it will be heralded by only one, the heart of the Saiyans forever lost into the mists of time._

_Should you choose to fight for another future, the darkness will remain only a shadow for years longer, but you will endure them understanding what you've done. The flow of time corrupted, your visions will remain, but you will find no comfort in knowing what is to come._

_Choose wisely. It may be that you can only forestall the inevitable._

With the words came the pain, an indescribable pressure in Bardock's temples that made him feel like his head was splitting in two. Something was very wrong.

He was being pulled in opposite directions – one image being ripped in half where it wasn't meant to be. His mind, trying to right itself, only made the sensation worse. The pictures in Bardock's head began to change, warping themselves to fit. There was no rhyme or reason to the order in which he saw them.

_A young man with strange hair and blue eyes, standing before Frieza – but in two different places, the pictures blurred over each other, struggling to bind together but only causing fractures in them both. Another man, who looked very much like Bardock himself, in the same predicament._

_The same man, but now his hair was flashing golden and his eyes teal, also in two different settings. The pictures were fighting for the same place, flickering between one another in rapid succession, like a tumbling die._

_And there, still, the image of Bardock's home world igniting._

Bardock felt a pressure on his chest, restricting his ability to breathe how he so desperately needed to. There wasn't enough air supply – something slowing down his muscles' reaction time – he didn't know which way was up or down. His son's cries were the only solid thing he could cling to.

It was then that he broke from his reverie, realizing he was in a healing tank, surrounded by silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been shoving this chapter to the bottom of the pile for a month and a half because I literally just didn't feel like doing it. It would've been a longer chapter except that would mean even more time for me to lose motivation, so here it is, finally.

Bardock had awoken from his nightmare, but his head throbbed persistently as he regained his bearings, taking stock of where he was – and trying to recall how he'd gotten there. (As for _why_ he was there, thinking about it simply worsened his headache.)

Blinking the room into focus, the green healing liquid started draining from the tank at the behest of the doctors outside.

When the door opened, the physician by the controls began speaking to him right away.

“Thank goodness you're alright,” the elderly man said. “You gave us a scare. Bardock... What happened?”

“I don't know,” the Saiyan replied. He was no stranger to being tended to by doctors, so Bardock felt no shame as he fumbled his way out, removing the breathing apparatus from his face as he tried to shake off the odd feelings still plaguing him. Almost like a chill up his spine... or perhaps that was just because he was entirely naked and the room was a little colder than expected.

“Your clothes are over here,” the doctor directed, and Bardock obeyed the gesture to retrieve the items, going slowly to readjust his muscles.

As Bardock dressed, blinking wearily through his headache, the doctor began speaking in a careful but firm fashion.

“I think it might be wise to take it easy for a while,” the old man said.

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn't know about that, I'm not wise.”

“You're not, eh?” the doctor echoed, clearly disapproving of Bardock's tone.

“Nope.”

_Choose wisely, Saiyan._

Bardock tried to shake his head free of the – nightmares? visions? – and frowned. Despite supposedly having healed, he still felt fucking awful. Perhaps the doctor had miscalculated and he hadn't been in long enough, but it didn't matter. He wasn't going back in, so he'd have to just figure something out.

“Oh, you're probably right. How else could you take on the assignments that you do and still be alive?” the doctor mused in a tone that indicated he thought Bardock a lost cause.

“I know how to fight – that's all. Doesn't take a whole lot of brains to be a great fighter,” Bardock replied as he fixed his scouter on. Although that wasn't always true, army grunts were never praised for their intellectual skills.

“Hey, speaking of which, where's Tora?” he continued. Tora was usually there after Bardock's miraculous recoveries to needle him on his reckless behaviour. (It was also true when the case was vice-versa.)

“Your team was ordered to go to Planet Meat... By Frieza himself,” the doctor answered.

Bardock felt his blood go cold. “What? Frieza?”

Under ordinary circumstances, the Saiyan would've been thrilled at finally earning recognition for himself and his squadron. However, the nightmares still fresh in his mind dampened whatever pride he might've felt to an uneasy pit in his stomach.

“They left without me, huh? Guess I'll have to catch up,” Bardock thought aloud. Then, a moment later, he considered something.

“Before I go, you got any painkillers? My head feels like it's splitting open,” he asked.

“Hm? That's odd. You should be back to one hundred percent, you healed in there long enough. Although, we did observe a change in your neural patterns...” the old man mumbled.

“My neural patterns? What does that mean?”

“Well, I can show you,” the doctor said, gesturing for Bardock to approach the nearby console with him. The Saiyan obliged, eyes flicking over the electronic display before them.

“These are the scans of your brainwaves that came up while I was searching for any routine irregularities in your system,” the physician explained. The images made little sense to Bardock – until the doctor pulled up a different scan next to his for comparison.

“This is how an ordinary Saiyan's brain patterns should look,” the old man went on.

While the two brain structures' light oscillations did have some similarities, Bardock could easily spot the abnormalities in the exhibition of his own. His frown deepened as his dark eyes travelled over the readout.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“It's... Well, to be honest, I've only seen this pattern once before, but it's an impossible thing, really.” The old man's eyes flickered over to the opposite end of the room, where the other attendant went about his business and ignored them.

“I don't know what happened to you on – Kanassa, was it? - but the only instance I've seen patters like these... By all indications, this is the brain scan of someone with more than just latent psychic abilities. Exactly what kind of headaches are you having, Bardock?”

Bardock looked at the doctor, blinking slowly. “I don't know if you think fucking with me is funny, but I don't have time for your wacko theories.”

“I'm being entirely serious. It's not as far-fetched as some people think. You must hear rumours of beings who can do more than just levitate objects. Perhaps this is the first case of a Saiyan going beyond that! I'd need more time to study you, but -”

“I already told you I don't have time,” Bardock replied, but then his headache throbbed and the scene in front of him was replaced with a different one.

_A baby with long black hair, whimpering as it was removed from its nursing pod. Another infant nearby screamed, and the screams were familiar. A flash of a knife. Then the image changed to a spacecraft, Frieza's spacecraft, heading for Planet Vegeta. Bardock himself, getting into an attack pod and... heading towards the ship to intercept it?_

_Shifting again, this time Frieza had already arrived, and Bardock himself carelessly flying into space without care for oxygen, confronting the galactic conqueror face to face. A bright flash, flames._

The hospital room came back into focus and the doctor was calling his name.

“Bardock? What is it?”

“I – I need to go,” Bardock said, ignoring the doctor's questions and protests as the Saiyan turned to leave.

“Wait, you need to rest! You should stay here -” the physician tried, but Bardock had already left the room.

He moved at a brisk pace down the hall, wishing he could go faster if it weren't for the angry protests of his head for each step he took.

Winding his way through the corridors, Bardock's mind raced. He didn't know what was happening to him, why he was being subjected to whatever the hell this was. If the pain would go away for at least a minute, maybe he could think clearly.

An infant's screaming halted him in place.

Bardock followed the sound, desperately hoping that he wasn't going crazy and that the sounds were real this time. As he rounded a corner, he was rewarded with a window into the nursery, dissuading his concerns as he stopped to take a look inside.

Directly in front of him among the row of pods, a healthy baby boy was screaming itself silly from within its glass confines.

Bardock knew for sure this was the one.

The Saiyan's eyes scanned around until he found what he was looking for: the plate that bore the infant's name.

“Kakarot, huh? You've definitely got lungs on you, kid,” Bardock said, looking the baby over. The adult Saiyan didn't doubt that the infant was his – their identical hairstyles were a strong indication, for starters. He idly wondered if Gine had already been here to see Kakarot again.

“I don't know how, but you can see the visions too,” Bardock muttered, narrowing his brows in thought as he stared at the baby.

On a whim, he let his scouter take measure of the newborn's power level. He glanced at the numbers, half hoping and half expecting there to be something unusual – but no. Kakarot's power level was only average.

Even though Bardock himself had been born around the same measure, the man was disappointed. There was no guarantee that just because the baby shared his genetics, it would also take after him and overcome the stereotypes of their caste (and Bardock was _still_ categorized as third-class, regardless of his potential).

Setting aside his dashed expectations, Bardock was about to leave when a small blip on his scouter drew his attention. Aside from Kakarot, the device was picking up one other power level in the vicinity, which Bardock was about ignore until a habitual glance at the numbers made him do a double-take.

His gaze flickered from the readout to the individual in question, who rested quietly in the natal pod next to Kakarot's. The other male infant was large for a newborn, with a head of long black hair, but it was neither of these still-within-ordinary qualities that held Bardock's attention.

According to the scouter, the baby held a power level on par with Bardock's own, drawing eerily close to that of King Vegeta himself.

Which was, of course, utterly ridiculous and impossible.

_Damn scouter must be broken,_ Bardock thought as he removed it for a moment to search it for damage or anything else indicative of a problem. When nothing obvious presented itself, Bardock put it back on and looked at the baby again, confirming that it was the one from the vision he'd had minutes prior. The power level readout remained the same, dropping dramatically when he turned his head to let it focus on Kakarot, then back up again when it detected the other infant.

“Broly...” Bardock read aloud as he took notice of the plate bearing the other boy's name. The grown Saiyan had a passing curiosity toward who the parents might be, certain that they had to be elites to produce a child like this, but even that wouldn't account for a baby being already born with such incredible strength.

Even more curiously, there were no doctors around who seemed to care about such a rarity. In fact, as Bardock peeked further inside, he couldn't see anyone at all.

He wondered why – and to where – all the attendants had run off to all at once. If Broly really was as strong as the (doubtfully functional) scouter had said, there ought to be more people buzzing around, or at least one of the baby's parents come to see such a thing for themselves.

Bardock recalled the strange images he'd seen only minutes ago as Broly's softer cries joined Kakarot's loud ones.

 

\- :: -

 

“Why... are you doing this...?” Tora grunted from his place in the dirt, tasting blood in his mouth.

Shugesh, Fasha, and now Borgos – they were all dead. Tora himself didn't figure he was long from being at death's door, but felt no fear at that fact.

All that consumed him was confusion and rage as he stared up at the group of opposing soldiers, beings handpicked by Dodoria himself.

The large, pink creature stood both physically and mentally as the figurehead of the group, eager to dole out violence where he could. He glared down at Tora with a mixture of disdain and sadistic enjoyment.

“I... don't understand...” grunted Tora as his dark eyes met Dodoria's even darker ones.

“What don't you understand, Tora? That you are weak?” the alien mocked. “Nah, you shouldn't have forgotten that so easily.”

The fuchsia behemoth then approached, taking ahold of the front of Tora's armour and hoisting the Saiyan in the air like he weighed nothing.

“Wh – what do you mean? We serve Frieza, you know that!” the injured man coughed out.

“Yes, I know,” Dodoria replied, chuckling to himself. “Frieza's very impressed with your service record... _Too_ impressed. It seems he'd prefer you dead.”

Tora's mind spun through the fog of pain. “ _What?_ Why...?”

“I don't want to flatter you, but Frieza thought you were getting too strong,” Dodoria explained.

“Consider this a promotion,” one of the other alien soldiers added in derision, prompting a circle of laughs from the group.

“N – no... That doesn't... Everything we've done was for him! Why would he do this?” Tora reasoned.

“You fool. It's not what you've done, it's what you might have done in the future,” Dodoria growled.

“Then... No one is s – safe from Frieza... Not even you...”

Dodoria only smirked at the Saiyan's comment. “Is that so?” he said before flinging Tora away.

The man landed in a broken heap, unable to rise and fight his inevitable destruction. His only thought was that Bardock, on the fluke chance of his injury, would survive – at least until he sought revenge upon his discovery of what had happened.

 

\- :: -

 

There was no way Bardock could accept the idea that he'd been given the power to see the future.

The doctor had said it, Kanassans were known for their psychic abilities, and Bardock had been having strange visions, to which his day-old son was somehow responding to as well.

But that didn't mean he could really see the future, did it?

Bardock had left the area near the infant care centre, intending to push all that aside so he could meet up with Tora, Fasha, Borgos, and Shugesh, who had likely almost completed the mission alone in the time it took Bardock to recover. However, he'd stopped upon reaching the transportation bay, getting the occasional stare from passerby as he remained stock-still in place.

Deep down, he knew that something inexplicable was happening out of his control. Though he wanted to pretend it was nothing, even his inability to make the final step to rejoin his comrades made evident his turmoil.

_There are two rivers that diverge from this place. You have a choice to make._

The ominous words echoed in Bardock's mind. The many images he recalled being forced upon his consciousness danced behind his eyes, taunting him. His headache wailed away, assaulting every portion of his cranium that could feel pain, like it was trying to fight off the visions being unnaturally procured into his awareness.

_No matter what you do, there will be sacrifice._

_Should you choose to fight for another future, the darkness will remain only a shadow for years longer, but you will endure them understanding what you've done._

_Choose wisely._

Bardock seated himself in the cockpit of an attack pod, knowing there was something greater at work. He couldn't deny all the factors before him, the whispers guiding him to make a decision.

Perhaps – just maybe – the Kanassan really had done something to alter Bardock's mind. Perhaps these visions weren't mere nightmares, they were warnings.

The door to the pod sealed shut with a squeal of the airlock, the computer prompting him to select a destination on manual or autopilot.

His fingers hovered over the controls, and he wondered what would happen after he chose one of the two paths his visions had showed him.

_There is only one way they can be saved, Saiyan. The future is your doing and yours alone. The pendulum swings and not even Frieza can stop it – but you can change the price you pay._

Bardock shut his eyes. On some level, he knew this was the moment. He could almost physically feel it weighing on his shoulders. Though his conscious mind was confused, the deeper understanding that had been unlocked was drawing him closer to... something.

Slowly, like his body was moving on its own, he inputted a set of commands into the console. He'd flown a ship so many times that he didn't even have to look at them to know what he was doing. The decision he made was his – and yet fate was using him as it used everyone.

It seemed reuniting with his teammates would have to wait.

_A little boy who looked like Bardock, who looked like Kakarot, and a pretty blue-haired girl. That same little boy fighting a Namekian, and then the boy is a man again, clashing with another Saiyan who bore a great resemblance to the king. A baby with bright blue eyes and purple hair; a broken, bloodied sword laying in sand. Tora, broken and bloodied himself. Someone with black hair and golden arm bracers decorated with blue stones, holding his hands over his ears and screaming. A different man wearing some type of frame over his eyes holding a bundle in his arms. Then, possibly the same violet-haired being as before, but their hair wasn't violet anymore but gold and there was lighting and rage. The youngest Crown Prince, playing with a baby who had azure hair. A strange sphere, buried beneath miles of earth as it awaited something._

_And last, there was Bardock himself on some space station, standing alone before Frieza. At first, he looked exactly as Bardock did now, but his expression and posture were tense. But then the image altered once more, Bardock looking slightly older and much more wearied yet now he smiled in the face of the conqueror, no longer afraid because no one could outrun their fate._

Bardock opened his eyes as the pod ejected from port and headed for space, aware that his and everyone's destiny had been chosen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Super altered the lore of events surrounding Planet Vegeta's destruction to involve Beerus, and it's often said that he was the one who gave Frieza permission to blow up the Saiyans' planet. Since Beerus isn't in this story, and I don't like the idea of shaping every major event in the series around him as Super tends to do, this is my version of how the prospective idea of the Saiyan genocide plays out in Frieza's mind.

The lord of the galaxy rarely slept.

Contrary to some misconceptions, Ice Demons did in fact take rest when they so chose; however, they didn't need it as some lesser species did. Frieza, least of all. It'd been the first time in three months that he'd felt the desire, and had the necessary time allotment, to have the luxury of sleep – an interplanetary trade empire simply couldn't run itself.

His ensuing dreams had been curious, to say the least.

As he considered himself the most powerful being in existence, and all others he encountered did too (for fear of what would happen if they disagreed), Frieza had never had a cause to believe in gods or angels for all his long life. It was strange to him, then, that he'd dreamed about them.

Quite honestly, the vision had been nonsense, but the fact that these figures in his dream had brought up the Saiyans' destruction before Frieza had even thought of it himself was intriguing. It was a seraph-like being with robes that'd done most of the talking; sometimes in Frieza's direction and sometimes to the other being he couldn't see.

While most details of the dream had been forgotten, it was clear to Frieza that somewhere in his subconscious, he'd already been aware of the problem the rising strength of the Saiyans posed. While they were indeed some of his most dedicated fighters – it was simple to manipulate their desire for battle over their desire for freedom – even their lowest class warriors were able to attain power that took the average PTO soldier far longer to obtain. Even so, no single Saiyan (potential aside) had anywhere near the strength required to be a threat.

No matter what any monkey legends might say.

Frieza was drawn away from his thoughts by a voice over his scouter.

“L – Lord Frieza,” the officer stuttered, wary of interrupting the commander, even if it was over a scouter line and was an urgent concern.

Luckily, Frieza was in a fair enough mood, and accepted the unannounced call in stride.

“Yes, what is it?” the saurian overlord replied. He sat in his hover pod, setting aside the glass tablet screen he'd been using to look over scheduled reports – nothing worthy of note, especially since he had received an alert several days prior of Cooler's possible activity within the territory. Without any further information, Frieza had been ready to dismiss it as an error, but the unexpected call he'd just gotten piqued his interest.

“There appears to be a spacecraft headed in our direction,” the officer clarified.

“Is that so?” Frieza said.

“Yes, sire. However, our readings show it's only an attack pod, and is confirmed to be without any accompanying squadron. The ETA is one hour at both our current velocities.”

“And the occupant?”

“Preliminary scans indicate that... it seems to be a Saiyan, my lord.”

Frieza flicked his tail, mulling over the somewhat unusual news. There was no possible way any primate underling could know of his intentions, and even if one of them somehow suspected, no Saiyan would dare confront him alone.

“Sire?” the officer asked after a pause. “Do you want us to take it out?”

“No. Keep tabs on it, inform me when it comes within docking range. That is all,” Frieza said. The officer acknowledged the order and severed the link.

Pursing his dark lips, Frieza gazed out the window. If this really was just a lone Saiyan stupid enough to try and cause havoc aboard his vessel, at most it would inconvenience the commander. But surely, even the most idiotic monkey of the rabble would know that Frieza wouldn't have to raise a finger to destroy them – the power of the spacecraft's defence systems were more than enough, and could kill at a great distance.

Frieza supposed that, if he decided to go through with his plan, one rogue Saiyan would make no difference.

 

\- :: -

 

“Please, he's only an infant!” Paragus begged.

“My decision is final. You would do well to remember whose authority you question,” King Vegeta boomed. His voice matched his imposing stature; most Saiyans wouldn't dare try to usurp his judgement or decisions.

It was for this reason that Paragus could not understand why the king feared a mere newborn.

True, Broly – the first and only child Paragus knew he would have – had been born with a power level nearly on par with the king himself. But not only did that power require training to be of any use, with the right upbringing the child would serve his people dutifully. The mother was dead, and now the king demanded Broly be slaughtered as well, and by his own race no less. Paragus had hardly been give the time to feel awe or pride at his son's innate strength before the kill order had been given.

“But how could you sanction this upon one of our own? He – he could be made to serve you, to serve our race! I beg you to reconsider!” Paragus went on, voice echoing desperately in the massive throne room. The large, adorning windows, formed with coloured glass, cast a deceptively soft shade of moonlight upon all figures present.

“Another word out of you, and you'll share your son's fate. Get out of my sight,” the king threatened.

“Rrgh... Damn you! I refuse to stand for this!” Paragus burst out. Incensed, his mind had only a moment to consider retrieving his son and escaping the damned planet before two elite guards were at his side, taking ahold of his arms in a vice-like grip.

When he tried to throw them off, he was struck viciously across the face.

“I will not tolerate mutineers,” the king thundered as he stood from his throne. The baby could not be allowed to live – someone so powerful would likely be prone to destructive rampages, and though he could potentially be strong enough to take down Frieza, he could also destroy his own people in the process. King Vegeta knew, too, that Paragus would not easily forget nor forgive his son's culling, and thoughts of vengeance were easy to fester in a Saiyan heart.

“You... I swear this will not be forgotten!” the bereft father in question growled as the king approached. “The gods curse you! Curse your sons! Your whole family! The blood of a Saiyan child is on _your_ hands!”

King Vegeta raised his hand, summoning a large purple orb of light. Without hesitation, he drove his hand forward into Paragus' chest, causing the man to scream in pain. King Vegeta let the attack explode, sending the other Saiyan flying back, rolling across the floor until he came to a stop several metres away.

The room echoed in the wide silence left behind. None of the select Saiyans in attendance stirred.

One man in particular, a high-ranking member of the palace guard named Orash, stood uneasily in place. His own young daughter, though not a newborn anymore, meant a great deal to him, and he couldn't imagine what it would be like to have her torn from him in such a cold manner. However, the man was also smart enough to keep such thoughts to himself.

The Saiyan king shifted, turning to his attending squadron.

“You two,” he commanded, eyes on Orash and another member of the guard.

“Take his body and get rid of it,” he said to one of them, then looked at Orash. “You deal with the boy. Discard him out by the ruins with his father.”

Orash felt his blood chill, but he dared not disobey. Bowing to the king, he then briefly met eyes with his comrade (who lifted Paragus' body over his shoulder) and they left the throne room, bound for the nursery.

Though it didn't take them long to arrive, to Orash it felt as if the streets and hallways were claustrophobic and endless. His legs carried him forwards despite the turmoil going on in his mind, and his throat was dry as he and his companion finally reached the pale room that held their target.

“What a dirty business – killing babies,” the other man muttered, waiting by the door. Orash didn't respond, his eyes grazing over the various natal pods until the one he was looking for caught his eye.

Stiffly, he walked over to it, peering in to confirm the large, healthy baby boy inside. As if understanding what was about to happen, the newborn in the next pod over began to cry, voice sounding hoarse, but Orash ignored it as he retracted the glass lid of Broly's care unit and picked him up.

“Found him?” the other Saiyan asked, and Orash nodded.

“Not in here – not with these other infants around,” he blurted. Truthfully, he wanted to give the baby his last few minutes under the sky, not in this sterile white room with the wailing of the other child who got to live.

Orash's comrade gave him a look, but then shrugged, turning to lead the way out. Orash himself briefly wondered if he could find a blanket to at least cover Broly, but then realized how little the gesture meant and numbly moved to follow his companion.

The twin moons illuminated their flight through the desert, Orash tucking his living cargo to his chest while his partner carried the father's body. The baby didn't complain about the cold; he was utterly quiet as the trio went about their journey, the city getting smaller and smaller behind them.

When they found the intended place they landed, the other Saiyan unceremoniously dumping Paragus on the ground.

“Let's just get this over with,” the other man said, turning to pull out a knife from where he'd strapped it to his leg. The tip of it glinting under the moons' rays, he offered it to Orash.

Orash took it as an automatic reflex, but could only stare at the blade.

“Just get it over with,” the other Saiyan repeated. “We're in the same boat here, Orash – do it quickly so you don't have to think about it.”

Swallowing hard, Orash looked down at the infant, the baby's tail curled instinctively around the wrist of the man who held him. Without his scouter, Orash couldn't see Broly's power level, so he seemed no more than an ordinary child.

The man moved his arm to raise it over the baby, dagger tip pointed down. The seasoned warrior noticed the slight tremble in his grip and steeled himself against it.

A heartbeat of time passed. Then two. Then three.

Orash slowly lowered his arm, letting it fall to his side with the unstained knife held loosely in it.

“I – I can't do it,” he said.

His comrade let out a long sigh. “Unless you want us to wind up like Paragus over here, we don't have a choice.”

“We're the palace guard, not executioners.”

“Orash,” his companion said calmly, “even if we refuse, someone else will just take our place. Under ordinary circumstances, questioning an order from the king himself is treason – you've been the most loyal member of the royal guard and a commendable warrior for years, so I won't tell anyone you lost your nerve.”

The other man strode over, pulling Broly from Orash's numb grasp along with the knife.

“I know you've got a child of your own to take care of. Just this once, I'll do your job for you. But you owe me one,” the other Saiyan said.

He dangled the baby up by its leg. “Besides, he'll be better off dead anyway.”

Orash did not look away as the knife drove home.

 

\- :: -

 

Bardock knew very well that he could be walking towards his death, but he also knew that his planet and entire race – including Gine – would suffer the same fate if he didn't try for this one, slim chance.

There was, of course, a rational part in the back of his mind screaming at him that this whole endeavour was ridiculous, and that he should've gone and reunited with his teammates on Planet Meat. And even though another part of his mind may have agreed (with disturbing images of a broken Tora in the dirt), more instinct drove him towards the decision he'd already made upon inputting his pod's coordinates.

He couldn't turn back now.

As his spacecraft settled into the docking port, Bardock leaped from it as soon as the pressurization released, stepping foot into the larger ship – only to be greeted by three PTO soldiers aiming weapons in his face.

“I can see we're off to a good start,” the Saiyan mumbled, then spoke louder and with confidence. “I need to speak to Lord Frieza.”

“I don't know who you think you are, but under ordinary circumstances your pod would've been blasted to smithereens. We're to take you into custody under grounds of suspicious motives, and you won't be going anywhere until we get some answers out of you,” one soldier with green and yellow spotted skin explained.

“I don't give a fuck about you. Either you take me to the commander, or I'll find my way there myself,” Bardock replied.

“Why you impudent – !” the soldier began, but didn't get to finish as the wild-haired Saiyan simultaneously grabbed the alien's armed hand, crushed the weapon, and then drove the soldier's own fist into his face.

The remaining two were given no time to react as Bardock spun, kicking the second soldier in the stomach and sending him flying into the third. The Saiyan followed up with a narrow and focused ki beam, letting it spear through the necks and spinal cords of the two weakling soldiers.

The remaining warrior had in the meantime recovered, jumping at Bardock and intending to bowl him over but the Saiyan ducked, grabbing the alien's legs and flipping him over and onto his back. Bardock quickly turned and drove his heel into the soldier's chest, the action doubling to keep in in place and act as a threat for further retaliation.

“Now, let's get back to the part where you tell me where Frieza is and I don't kill you,” Bardock said.

“You... insubordinate fool!” the soldier spat. “You won't ever reach the commander! More of us will be on their way, and Lord Zarbon will crush you before you even -”

Bardock moved to place his foot on the alien's windpipe, effectively cutting off whatever he'd been going to say. Then the Saiyan leaned down, plucking the scouter off the soldier's face and began hacking into the device while the alien beneath struggled for air.

Despite what he'd told his doctor, Bardock was in fact clever in comparison with most Saiyans. Had he been given the chance to pursue the sciences, he would've done well, but as things were his activities in that area were limited to off-duty tinkering and opportune moments such as this.

Even from its coiled position, the tip of Bardock's tail flicked habitually as he worked. He knew he had only minutes until more PTO lackeys did indeed arrive – most of which he'd be able to defeat without trouble, but if someone like Zarbon entered the fray Bardock would most certainly lose.

“ _Gkha – ghack!_ ” the alien on the floor gargled.

Bardock, affixing the now altered scouter to his face, removed his boot from the soldier's neck and promptly kicked him in the side of the head, knocking him out.

The Saiyan was about to continue into the ship when another vision struck him, sending him stumbling into the wall. However, this one lasted only a second, and he set his teeth and refocused his efforts to moving onwards.

 

\- :: -

 

“Lord Frieza, I believe we may have a problem,” Zarbon said, the slightest of frowns crossing his delicate features. “The, uh, the squadron we sent to apprehend the Saiyan isn't responding.”

“How unusual,” the PTO commander responded, in such a way that Zarbon couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or not. “I assume our guest proved too much for them to handle and is currently making his way through the ship. No matter – as I am the only valuable thing here besides database information, the Saiyan will have only two possible targets. Zarbon, round up a search party and locate him. I don't want any equipment damaged by a rogue, insubordinate monkey.”

“Yes, sire,” the green-haired man replied, bowing and then moving off to fulfil his lord's behest.

Elsewhere, Bardock crouched behind a corner, keeping his energy as low as possible to avoid notice from the troop of soldiers that went by. Thanks to his acquired scouter, he knew which direction in the ship he ought to be going, but a detour here and there was necessary now that the crew was on alert. Another concern of his was the visions distracting him, but so far there had only been just the one.

Once the group had passed by, Bardock snuck onwards, weaving in and around the hallways as he drew closer to his intended goal. He managed to avoid being seen for the most part – however, once he rounded the bend and came into view of a set of bulkhead doors, a squadron of several alien warriors came into sight as they barred the way through the corridor.

As there was no other path around that wouldn't take him back into danger – potentially putting him in the way of someone like Zarbon – the Saiyan had to come up with a solution, and fast. But he'd been in tighter situations before.

Taking hasty stock of his surroundings, he espied a control panel fixed into the wall across from him that he could use.

Bardock pursed his lips, raising his hand to chest level. He had only a second to do this – their scouters would pick up the slightest increase in ki at such a close range.

With careful aim he harnessed a small beam of ki and fired through the panel and into the embedded wall circuitry behind it, causing an electrical spark and then, like he'd hoped, a plume of smoke emerged and began filling the hallway.

As soon as the soldiers broke formation in their confusion, Bardock took his chance.

He dove into the fray, grabbing the first soldier he came into contact with as a shield and began letting loose more powerful energy blasts, aiming wildly through the smoke at moving shapes.

Seeing several of them topple, even firing at each other in the confusion, he (and his shield) managed to avoid any direct shots until one grazed Bardock's arm where he held his captive. Though he didn't let go, his grip loosened enough for the alien to wriggle his weapon around and aim it for the Saiyan's face.

The shot missed, but it was incentive enough for Bardock to shift, flexing his powerful arms and breaking his captive soldier's neck. As they dropped to the floor, he was about to seek out his next opponent when another large PTO lackey leaped from nowhere onto the Saiyan's back, trying to take him down. He stumbled backwards, smacking his attacker into the wall with strength and then doing it again until their grip loosened. Bardock then snapped his head back into his opponent's face, feeling their bone crack under the force and then he told ahold of their arm and threw them off.

Charging up a large sum of ki into himself, Bardock then released it with the force of an explosion, dispelling much of the smoke and sending what warriors were still on their feet sprawling away scorched.

When nothing stirred for a long moment, the Saiyan moved on. Once he'd reached the doors in question they parted for him, prompting him to take a brief pause and then enter the room. He'd previously guessed the ship would've been on lock-down, but didn't get to finish the thought as the doors sealed behind him and Bardock looked around.

The room was massive – his eye was drawn to the window, which engulfed the entire wall across from him. Then, his gaze travelled to the hovering, egg-shaped object, which he recognized after a mere instant.

“I didn't see a point in wasting any more men on you, since you seem to have a rather desperate lack of self-preservation,” a smooth, cool voice echoed into the room. At the same time, the floating pod began to rotate, turning so that Bardock could see the pale face of the Planet Trade commander.

Frieza's glinting, blood-coloured irises locked onto the form of the Saiyan before him, and Bardock felt a bead of sweat trickle past his temple.

“Lord Frieza,” he said. His tail tightened instinctively around his waist. Now that he was here, prepared to beg for the survival of his race, his mouth felt dry and his skin cold.

“Well? I assume you didn't come all this way just to die,” Frieza prompted.

“I – I'm not the only one who wants to avoid dying,” Bardock replied. Frieza's eyes narrowed fractionally.

“Look, this – this is going to sound crazy,” the Saiyan said, “but please, just hear me out. I know what you're planning to do to the Saiyans – to our planet. I'm here to ask you not to.”

Frieza's expression didn't change. Bardock shifted in place, stepping closer.

“Forgive me for these words,” he said, “but if you follow through with your intentions of destroying us... it will cost you your life.”

“A dangerous claim, even for a deadman,” Frieza said.

“I can prove to you how I know this. One, your brother Lord Cooler is or will be confirmed within your territory, not far from Planet Vegeta. Second, your lieutenant Zarbon is about to enter the room, see me, and then use his left hand to blast me off to this side. You'll stop him before he kills me. If I'm right, hear the rest of what I have to say.”

Frieza pursed his lips, but before he could speak the doors slid open and revealed the decorative officer in question.

Zarbon's eyes widened.

“Lord Frieza!” he cried, eyes locking on the Saiyan a moment before blasting him off his feet.

Just as the lieutenant was about to pursue his target, a voice put him in his place.

“Zarbon, if you always threaten or brutalize my subjects before they can get a word in, how am I supposed to know what it is they want?” Frieza enquired with a roll of his eyes.

“Uh – um – but sire,” Zarbon protested, “you told us to apprehend the -”

“I've changed my mind. Go contact Dodoria, make yourself useful since the Saiyan's already in here.”

Bardock slowly got to his feet. The attack had been fired off in haste, so while his side stung, he doubted there was any damage his physiology wouldn't heal on its own within a short time.

Zarbon's gaze flicked back and forth for a few brief seconds, then he bowed stiffly to acknowledge the order given. Until the doors closed behind him, he never looked away from Bardock.

“You have my attention, Saiyan,” Frieza said. “Your lucky guess payed off.”

“It wasn't a guess.”

“Oh? Do explain.”

“Like I said. I know these things. I'm the leader of the squadron that overtook Kanassa – whose inhabitants were rumoured to have psychic abilities you wanted, isn't that right?”

“So you are Bardock, then. You Saiyans all look alike.”

“I am. And though we wiped out every last Kanassan... somehow, during the raid, I was wounded and given the power to see the future like they did, and I can sense when people have strong intentions.”

“If they could see the future, they would have fled from their destruction.”

“They knew they couldn't change their fate. I know that I can – I know I can convince you not to destroy us. If you do, there will be a handful of survivors. They and their children will grow strong enough to kill you within one Cycle, along with your father and brother. The thing you fear most – our legends will come true, in the descendants of three bloodlines. If you spare our planet, keep the royal family in check, we'll continue to serve you and you'll grow stronger than any Saiyan could dream.”

Bardock had blurred the lines of truth a little, and even he wasn't completely certain about what the most distant future would entail. But he knew that his only hope was to convince Frieza to abort his plans, or thousands of Saiyans would die, including Bardock himself. There was a chance that when he was finished, Frieza might kill him anyway, but it was worth a shot.

“And how do I know you aren't lying just to save your hide? It's not inconceivable that one of you monkeys somehow discovered what I mean to do,” the saurian commander postulated. He was an expert at detecting liars (indeed, Bardock seemed to be telling the truth), but tempered his instinct with a consistently sceptical mindset.

He had to admit, he was somewhat intrigued by the Saiyan before him – most of their kind were far from selfless or intelligent, and this one seemed to have at least a little of both qualities, even with his reputation of an efficient soldier and killer. Clearly, even if Bardock's so-called premonitions were false, his thinking patterns were abnormal.

“I have nothing to gain by lying,” Bardock replied.

“The survival of your race is nothing?”

“I could've gone back to warn Planet Vegeta instead of taking the risk of convincing you, when you could easily kill me to keep this under wraps. Even if you agree at this moment, the instant a Saiyan steps out of line you could finish us off. You hold the power here and now – but if you go forward with this genocide...” Bardock chose his next words carefully.

“The son of Vegeta, along with a handful of immensely powerful warriors from another world, will be your downfall.”

Frieza kept his expression schooled, but inwardly he mused over what he was being told. It seemed the young Prince Vegeta, his father's namesake, would gather a following and eventually betray the PTO and its leader.

“Look,” Bardock said, his headache throbbing. He was running out of ways to plead or convince, and he was desperate. “I know you always sought the power to read minds or see events to come. And I have this ability. Do whatever you want with me – you can rip out my brain and spine and keep them for all I care. But please... we've served you faithfully for this long. Just give us another chance.”

The pirate trade commander flicked his tail, and then in a smooth motion, hopped from his hover pod and stood on the floor, moving to approach Bardock. He held his ground until Frieza stopped a short distance away, no longer eye-to-eye as a result of their noticeable differences in stature – but Bardock knew who held the power in this situation regardless of appearances.

“The legend of the golden Saiyan, hm?” Frieza mused. “If this can be realized... Tell me, what of _your_ fate, Bardock?”

Bardock did not yet reply. He knew he was but a small part of the mechanism, and from everything he'd seen so far, he was only the messenger. Since he could only sense the most confident intentions, he knew Frieza hadn't made up his mind, and was about to answer when a notification over the commander's scouter interrupted the moment.

Frieza scowled at the disruption, but received the call anyway.

“You'd better have good reason to be interrupting me again, Zarbon,” he threatened. Bardock couldn't hear the reply, but Frieza's expression changed minutely, and he gave a small sound of interest.

“I see. I'll look into it shortly,” he said and then manually disconnected the line.

“My lieutenant has just informed me of my brother Cooler's activity in my territory,” he explained, “within distance of your planet. There seems to be more truth to your words than simple guesses.”

Bardock nodded, and after a long second of thought Frieza continued.

“As of this moment, you will go on record as having died as a result of your wounds on Kanassa,” Frieza said. “Whether you remain alive in actuality is to be determined. Perhaps I shall spare your race after all, Bardock.”

Bardock felt a wave of relieve go over him, but a deeper implication to Frieza's words echoed through the Saiyan. If he was officially declared dead, then that meant –

“The doctor who treated you will be taken care of, as will your squadron – of course, you will not be permitted to contact or see your comrades again, nor any family you have,” Frieza stated. “Your offspring, Raditz, is assigned on a squadron with Prince Vegeta according to my sources, but you have no other companions or relatives high enough within the PTO to recognize you. It's simple to avoid having you cross paths, but if you make efforts to do otherwise... I think you can surmise the consequences yourself.”

An image of Gine flitted through Bardock's mind. While she could physically support herself, she was already distant from Raditz, and with the baby scheduled to be sent off, she would have no one – even Tora, the only other former teammate who'd tolerated her, could do little to help.

“Is that clear?” Frieza prompted at the Saiyan's stunned silence.

“'Bardock' may be dead, but your race survives,” Frieza continued. “At least, for now – you will have to prove your ability to me further.”

Bardock could still not respond, as at that moment a vision struck him again.

_The cloud of intertwining images was changing. Before his very eyes, the alternate future – or futures? – became oblivion, happening in reverse as if being sucked into a black hole, faster and faster until they weren't there at all, and only one path forward remained._

Bardock fell to his knees, his headache dissipated but a much greater pressure descending upon him.

The very image he saw played out light-years upon light-years away, on a seemingly ordinary planet orbiting third place away from a medium-sized sun, a small space pod on course towards the blue and green world.

 

\- :: -

 

“Look, Dad, a shooting star!” exclaimed the little blue-haired girl as she looked away from the sunset. Indeed, a bright object streaked across the sky, vivid against the orange backdrop of the waning day as the three members of the Briefs family sat watching on their patio.

“Oh my, how beautiful! Make a wish, Bulma,” Mrs. Briefs cooed as the object faded from view after its brief appearance.

The little girl scrunched her nose, thinking intensely.

“Oh, I know!” she said at length. “I want a lifetime supply of strawberries!”

“You never get tired of eating those, do you?” Dr. Briefs chuckled.

“Nope!” Bulma said. “If I could wish for anything in the whole world, that would be it. But wishes on stars don't really come true, do they?”

Mrs. Briefs poked her daughter lightly on the nose. “You never know, sweetheart. Sometimes wishes do come true.”

“A little ingenuity towards making things happen yourself never hurt anyone, either,” Dr. Briefs commented.

“Engine-ooty?” Bulma asked.

“Ingenuity,” he repeated, saying it slower. “Don't worry Bulma, you have lots of it. You're going to be smarter than me someday, you know.”

Bulma beamed at her father's praise and turned back to looking at the sky. Someday, she would be one of the greatest minds the Earth had ever known – but for now, she was still a little girl, seated on her parents' laps as they all watched the sun set on another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a time-skip, years forward to the beginning of the main plot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to updating this. After almost half a year of neglecting the damn thing. 
> 
> More canon divergence stuff will be explained eventually... whenever chapter five decides to make an appearance.

Every muscle in Vegeta's body screamed at him for relief as the Saiyan dragged himself through the dirt. An act utterly below his dignity as a royal, yet there was little else he could manage with his ki spent, and pride and body battered.  
  
He doubted _they_ would be looking for him yet, but no matter how beaten and bloodied both he and his opponent were, even the simple-minded natives of this planet knew Vegeta still posed a threat. He had returned intending to complete his revenge, after all. But he'd come alone as a matter of pride, refusing the temptation to rain down the fury of the Saiyan race upon the worthless shithole known as Earth.  
  
He, the Prince of All Saiyans, brought low by a half-wit defector of his own people for the _second_ time. Before this day, Vegeta would've scoffed at the idea, too ludicrous to find it insulting. But here he was, unable to even stand, the only Saiyan anywhere nearby being _him:_ Kakarot _._ And his pathetic half-blood brat.  
  
In Vegeta's current state, anybody with one measly iota of power would be enough to kill him. No doubt the entire low-grade lot of them would seek to finish the job this time.  
  
They'd let him live, though his tail had been cut from him in the initial skirmish. He doubted they would be so merciful the second time.  
  
Vegeta hadn't been able to fly far, nor had he been able to walk once the former option failed him. He'd managed to haul himself across the ground quite a ways before coming across the view just ahead of him – a small belt of flowing water. Blue water.  
  
Tugging himself over the last stretch of distance, he sploshed into the stream, half in and half out. Dampness spread through his clothes and under his cracked armour, cooling his skin underneath. Red trails of blood were drawn out into the current; his wounds stung.  
  
Rolling over to immerse himself, he manoeuvred just enough to keep his head above the liquid body so he could breathe. His throat was parched, but he hardly had the energy left to stay awake at this point. However, he knew he couldn't remain still for long.  
  
Letting the stream run around him and soothe what little it could, Vegeta's instinct was already analyzing his options for survival.  
  
Somehow, the Earthling warriors were able to sense power without the aid of technology. He'd learned so during their first encounter. No doubt they would seek him out to finish him, if he didn't die from exposure to the elements first. Despite being a Saiyan, without food or water or shelter he wouldn't last in his state. And unlike before, he couldn't simply return to his attack pod and leave.  
  
His only choice was to go upstream. Animals, people, they all had the instinct to gather near a source of water. Either type of living creature meant food. He also knew his scent would be more difficult to trace by water, for either scavenging wildlife or the low-class Saiyan. Vegeta's energy was already depleted enough to be nigh on indistinguishable – at least for now.  
  
As humiliating as the situation was, the prince had no choice. He would _not_ be extinguished – not here, not like this. How many times had Frieza sent him to purge a planet, one that would've been certain death for any being but Vegeta? How long had that bastard kept the prince from the world that was his by right? How long had the leaderless Saiyans awaited their promised heir to take the throne only for him to die, lost on some distant planet unknown to anyone?  
  
He rolled onto his forearms, pushing himself to crawling position.  
  
_No. I refuse._ Vegeta was going to kill that son of a bitch Kakarot for disgracing his sovereign. Vegeta was going to kill the boy, a mutant whelp that shouldn't have been possible. Vegeta was going to find a way off this planet and raze it to dust, then return home.  
  
To the world that bore his name.   
  
  
                                                                                                         - :: -  
  
  
_"By the war goddess," Nappa rumbled. “So he really did let himself get killed by those weaklings.”_  
  
_“You think that he's any better? What a disgrace – a Saiyan allowing himself to die so easily,” Vegeta answered._  
  
_The two Saiyans were seated by their spacepods, mulling over the new information that had been presented to them. Trickles of rain fell on the duo, but they ignored the minor inconvenience of the weather in light of their new discovery._  
  
_Vegeta recalled how insistent Raditz had been prior to the last time they'd seen each other. The long-haired Saiyan had requested leave, saying that he was sure he'd located his lost sibling, a third class infant that'd been sent away to a planet in the middle of nowhere. Why Raditz cared so much was beyond Vegeta, as his own brother (of royal blood no less) had been sent away and he hadn't batted an eye. But then again, Raditz's sire had been Bardock, who'd been rumoured as unusual despite his strength. Perhaps his son had inherited a bit too much of the former quality._  
  
_Regardless, Vegeta and Nappa had stayed behind, only to find themselves overhearing the truth of what had happened to their ally upon his arrival to the planet known as Earth. That, and the surprisingly unique conversation they'd caught via Raditz's scouter he'd left activated._  
  
_“What do you say? You think we ought to go teach those 'Earthlings' a lesson?” Nappa said, drawing Vegeta back to the present._  
  
_“No. That would be a waste of time.” The Saiyan prince shifted his position, biting his nail in a habit of thought. “Then again... there is something that intrigues me.”_  
  
_Nappa raised an eyebrow. “You're talking about those 'Dragon Balls' Raditz mentioned, right? You think they're real?”_  
  
_There was a scrap of legend, or myth, or something even less, that told of the Namekians' abilities to grant wishes with magical spheres – Vegeta knew this much. Yet actually finding such an opportunity almost seemed too good to be true._  
  
_“So, what? We go to this Earth planet and use the Dragon Balls to revive Raditz?” Nappa continued._  
  
_Vegeta let out a low chuckle of laughter. “Of course not. Why the fuck would we waste infinite possibilities on something like that?” Raditz could easily be replaced with another Saiyan, but that meant nothing either way to the prince._  
  
_“Well... what did you have in mind instead?” the taller man asked._  
  
_“Think about it, Nappa. We could wish for anything we want. Anything at all. I'd say that's worth a little side excursion, wouldn't you?”_  
  
_“Heh. Why not?” Nappa agreed._  
  
_“It'll be easy,” Vegeta said as he stood. “Once we force the allies of that Kakarot to tell us how to locate the Dragon Balls, we'll eliminate them and anyone else who tries to stand in our way.”_  
  
_“And then...?”_  
  
_“And then we can have whatever we want. Even... eternal life.”_  
  
_“Living forever...? That's perfect. If we can't die, no one will be able to defeat us.”_  
  
_“Correct,” Vegeta said as the duo began preparing their transportation. “We'd be the greatest fighters in the universe. And then... we can ascend to our places among the Saiyan warriors of legend.”_  
  
_Legendary indeed. He would become the apex of his race – the Super Saiyan. No more kowtowing to Frieza and living under his thumb. No more humiliation at the hands of his lieutenants. Vegeta would claim his rightful place on the throne of the planet that bore his name, and then take the rest of the galaxy for himself with his people behind him._  
  
_At their current location, it would take the Saiyan duo over one Earth year to arrive. But the prince knew it would be worth the wait. Strength was the only thing that was important, and his ascension was just a matter of time._  
  
  
                                                                                                        - :: -  
  
  
The small form of a child could be seen leaping over the rubble, dark-haired and pale as he beheld his father laying battered in the dirt yet again.  
  
“Dad!” the young boy cried. While he wasn't the most practiced at sensing ki yet, he was relieved to note that the menacing aura of Vegeta was nowhere to be found. But Gohan was still afraid – his father's energy was weak.  
  
The little boy had been the first one to arrive, but as he skidded to a halt near his father's prone form, he had no idea what to do. He didn't have any senzu beans with him, but he knew the others would be there soon. And Piccolo was nearby – he'd been keeping tabs on the battle, staying wary should things go sour. After spending a year in the wilderness with the Namekian, Gohan could pick him out anywhere, and could even share thoughts with the alien (who had not so long ago been a demon, as far as anyone knew).  
  
“Dad? Dad, are you okay? P – please say something!” Gohan pleaded, turning his father onto his back. The boy bit back a sob, seeing the smeared blood and emergent bruising covering Goku's chest and extending to a lesser degree over the rest of him. A few of Goku's ribs shifted under Gohan's grip and the man made a small grunt of pain, blearily trying to focus on his son.  
  
“ _Nng_... Gohan? Is that you...? Where's...” he attempted, trying to speak through the blood in his mouth.  
  
As the boy attempted to comfort his wounded father, the distant sound of an engine caught his sensitive ears.  
  
“Do you hear that? It's got to be Miss Bulma!” he exclaimed. “We're going to get you fixed up, okay Dad?”  
  
With a strength unnatural for most children his size, Gohan took ahold of Goku's torso – as much as he could reach around with his small arms – and began heaving the grown man across the dusty earth, determined to get him to Bulma's approaching aircraft faster, if Gohan could help it. He'd already lost his father once and refused to let it happen again.  
  
Within minutes, the small dot on the horizon had grown to a clear image of a Capsule Corporation vehicle, piloted by none other than Bulma herself and accompanied by Krillin and Yamcha. The two men were effectively her seeing-eye guides, staying alert for Goku and Gohan's energies and watching for them down below.  
  
“Can't this thing go any faster?” demanded Yamcha, peering out the window next to his girlfriend.  
  
“If it went faster, I would be _going_ faster, Yamcha! Just keep your eyes peeled and let me do my job!” the Capsule Corp heiress retorted. “I'm as worried about Goku as you!”  
  
“There!” Krillin exclaimed, squinting as he located a pair of humanoid shapes against the backdrop of the dusty landscape.  
  
Bulma hearkened to her companion's words and slowed down her aircraft, aiming for the nearest plot of earth she could set down on.  
  
The instant they drew close, Krillin hopped the remaining distance to the earth, the hard landing not affecting the warrior in the slightest. Though he could only sense the dwindled energies of Goku and Gohan, Krillin was still careful to quickly ensure that Vegeta was nowhere to be found. The monk didn't know if that meant the Saiyan was dead or had turned tail from the scene of the battle, but either way, he wasn't present now.  
  
Krillin darted over to his best friend, trying not to wince as he took in the sight of Goku's condition.  
  
Gohan had set his father down, a small wave of relief falling over him now that help had arrived.  
  
“Senzu bean?” the little boy enquired immediately, hoping for the best. Krillin shook his head.  
  
“Sorry, Gohan. We didn't have the chance to get some since Vegeta caught us off-guard. Once we get your dad somewhere safe I'll fly as fast as I can to see if Korin has any.”  
  
At the bald man's words, Gohan's resolve flickered, but the youth mustered himself once more as Bulma and Yamcha approached.  
  
“Please tell me he's okay,” the woman whispered, feeling herself tremble with the shock of the situation. She came to a stop next to Gohan, moving to collect the child into an embrace as the two men carefully began to lift Goku.  
  
“M – Mom,” the little boy said suddenly. “We need to get my mom. Sh – she's gonna be so worried.”  
  
“It's okay. We'll send somebody. It'll be alright now,” Bulma tried to reassure. She knew the boy was trying to be strong, but his hands tightly fisted into the fabric of her shirt gave away his vulnerability. Doing the best she could to comfort Gohan, Bulma held him and stroked her fingers through his hair. She hated that it wasn't the first time a boy so small had needed protection from the thought of death.  
  
Yamcha and Krillin, while not far-off in their thoughts, had their hands full bringing Goku back to the aircraft. They tried to say a few words to him, but no response was forthcoming from the Saiyan.  
  
Moving gingerly, they placed him on the wide floor of the aircraft. Krillin was already searching for what could pass for medical supplies; anything to help alleviate his friend's condition. Yamcha had darted back to help Bulma and Gohan, a question beginning to burn in his mind as he helped the two climb aboard.  
  
“If Goku's in this state, I bet the other guy's no better off,” he said as Bulma moved back into the pilot's seat, getting their vehicle back into the air.. “I can't sense Vegeta anywhere nearby, but none of us saw a body, right?”  
  
“How many times are we gonna let this guy get away?” Krillin muttered under his breath. Not for the first time, he wondered if they should've taken out Vegeta when they'd had the chance. But perhaps, based on their current state of affairs, they had that opportunity once more.  
  
It was just a matter of finding the rogue prince, whom Goku – for a reason the monk could not fathom – wanted alive.  
  
The monk gazed once more over at the prone Saiyan, not sure if he was surprised to find a small smile playing on his lips.  
  
  
                                                                                                        - :: -  
  
  
Sago, though no spring chicken, was used to hauling back the fruits of her labour herself. Granted, her pickup (more rusted dents than paint covering it now) did a fine job of helping her transport her catch back to the cabin. For much of the year, when the weather permitted, she called the solitary lodge home.  
  
Courtesy of her skill with a rifle, she returned there through the last threads of daylight with a buck she'd felled that morning.  
  
Truck rumbling over the path, her familiar dwelling came into view over the hill's crest, between the clusters of trees that offered her land some privacy. The sunset in the distance cast red blankets and black shadows, soon to give way to the purples of twilight. Despite the inevitable clouds of bugs that descended at nightfall, she enjoyed this time of day for its beauty.  
  
She pulled her vehicle into its usual spot. A few loose stones pressed beneath the weight of the wheels as they locked into place, Sago killing the ignition with a flick of her wrist and taking a moment to relax herself into the seat. It was practically molded to her shape, the cracked leather a comfort. She was exhausted after the days away from home.  
  
Her eyes fluttered back open beneath salt-and-pepper bangs, admiring the colour of the vegetation around her before she shifted to swing open old hinges and hop out of the truck.  
  
Shutting and locking it up behind her, she began to make a path towards the lodge – but her hiking boots froze in place.  
  
The door was ajar.  
  
No, more than ajar. It barely clung to its frame, shattered in several places and canted at an unnatural angle, almost like a cannonball had blown through it.  
  
Sago's instinct overruled her shock and she was already moving for the back of her pickup, fumbling for her hunting rifle.  
  
Her fingers grazed over and seized the weapon, tugging it to her side with a click of the safety switch. She came across the ammunition a moment later and loaded the cartridge, trying to still the emergent tremble in her hands, trying to calculate how many bullets it would take to fell the intruder if it was still inside.  
  
She didn't think it was human. Humans didn't rip the whole door to pieces, nor did they have the strength to without a tool. A bear, most likely, or a large reptile had clawed at it until it gave way, though there were no gouges resembling talons left in the wood and no defining motive for an animal to break in.  
  
Keeping her finger gently poised over the trigger, Sago began to approach the cabin.  
  
The dirt was silent under her shoes as she crept towards the threshold, furtively looking for any sign of the trespasser. Upon reaching what was left of the door, the barrel of her gun went in first; then, a few steps and a few quiet breaths as she peeked inside.  
  
The day was quickly fading outdoors, but it was just enough for the woman to observe the state of the entryway.  
  
The small table, normally upright a few feet away, was knocked onto the ground. The coat hanger had been ripped from its nail and was nowhere to be seen and a cold draft permeated the room.  
  
But these things paled in comparison to the long, dark splatters stained against the hardwood floor, splatters that beaded red in the fading light.  
  
It was like a scene from a horror movie.  
  
Stepping fully inside now, Sago let out a slow lung-full of air. _No human could've done this_ , she confirmed, wondering what kind of wounded beast she was dealing with.  
  
Until her thoughts ground to a halt once more at the bloody hand-print half smeared across the wall.  
  
Shakily, she brushed her palm over it. The outline, though distorted, was bigger than her own, but not by a lot. Some of it came off against her glove, and the moment she realized it was relatively fresh was the same moment a sound came from further in the cabin.  
  
The butt of the gun was against her shoulder now as she moved in the direction of the noise, step by step until she was down the hallway, at the corner and spinning the barrel of her rifle ahead of her into the kitchen, sighting down it at the dark shape that shifted against the rest of the shadows and her heart beat so loudly there was no way it couldn't be heard by the –  
  
Man. It was a man. Or something in the shape of one, because when Sago looked past the cracked plates of armour and the wild peak of black hair she met a set of eyes so dark and hungry that she knew, in an instant, she would die the moment she lowered the gun.


End file.
